


Storytelling

by Crowsister



Series: Mare vs. Reds and Blues in a Galaxy Far Far Away [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowsister/pseuds/Crowsister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled "Tucker tries to bullshit, Church isn't letting him"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytelling

It was a dark as fuck and stormy night on Kamino when I met Church here. I had a couple of ladies calling me up, it was a fine time-

Correction: Tucker, they were male bounty hunters, y’know the  **Reds** and you’ve made it clear to Donut that they aren’t your type. Further correction: also, you were in a  _ kriffing  _ cage. Statement: fine time it was  _ kriffing  _ not.

Whatever man, it was kinky. Anyways, they were hitting on me-

Clarification: literally.

-and it was y’know, really  _ cheeky _ .

Frustrated exclamation: Tucker, I swear-

So anyways, I’m hanging out in the cage. Suddenly, there’s this sort of beeping noise. Sarge thought it was their astromech, Grif deadpanned about it being the ship self destructing, and Simmons -- nerdy as fuck Simmons in his fifteen seconds of glory -- recognized it as the beeping of a Hunter-Killer droid.

Tired greeting: hi.

Yes, Church, it  **was** you! You, looking like a piece of shit rustbucket, all silver under cakes of rust, and you’re kriffing  _ beeping _ . Like the son of a garbage compactor you are, you had your vocalizer unit all roboty instead of the y’know-

Frustrated declaration: robots are kriffing people too and if you say we aren’t normal people, I will _ kriffing _ snipe you in your sleep.

That requires you to have  _ aim _ , Church.

Command: shut up.

Anyway, he’s beeping and sputters, “Self destruct ini-initiated. 50 kriffing kilometer wide explosion to detonate in three-two-” and the Reds are out of there by the time he hits two and far before the realization that  _ normal robots _ don’t swear like Correlian smugglers. Me, I was a brave son of a-

Statement: Tucker, you peed yourself, don’t lie.

_ I was a brave son of a bantha _ and was ready to face the end of my criminal life. It had been a wild ride, most any spacer can ask for. Anyways, he starts laughing, like a pilot who just made the jump to lightspeed under four point two parsecs. He goes, “Declaration: I can’t  _ believe _ that worked. Notation: meatbags are kriffing stupid.”

Declaration: still true to this day. Meatbags are kriffing stupid.

Anyways, Church here -- yeah he has a name, I know he’s got HK-50 stamped on his ass, but call him that and he gets pissy so Church it is -- forgets that I’m in the cage-

Statement: I did  _ not  _ forget you were in the cage! I was just scanning the area for further threat!

Church, you were laughing your ass off that they fell for your bantha poodoo.

Statement: that is also true, but I was also scanning the area for further threats. Declaration: I can kriffing multitask, Tucker.

**Any** ways, after he’s done giggling like a Coruscant senator on a good day, he puts those blue optics on me and I’m sure I’m dead. Instead, he goes, “Proposition: pay me back for saving your hide, meatbag, by pretending to be my master.” And of course he meant it-

Declaration: Tucker, proceed and I will waste your drink in your hair.

Kriff, he can actually make good on that one, it  _ doesn’t require him to kriffing  _ **_AIM_ ** . So here we are. Me, the fake master to the Hunter-Killer droid whose best talent is swearing. And I guess he can kind of slice things. So uh...that’s how I got him.


End file.
